


Of bombshells and baby shoes

by Louhime



Series: The Future Of The Holmes Family [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Baby Milestones, Gen, M/M, Mpreg, mentions of serious illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 18:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8810734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louhime/pseuds/Louhime
Summary: Q wakes alone and it's not right. And as if that wasn't bad enough, it was about to get worse.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another instalment of The Future of The Holmes Family!! Woo! 
> 
> But no babies just yet, I'm getting there I promise! I've been working on this one for a while and I, as always, make no promises on quality. Ha! Please read and tell me what you think, I'll be waiting with bated breath! 
> 
> Warnings at the bottom as usual.

The first electronic trill of the alarm clock had Q sitting bolt upright in bed. He sat up wide awake, sleep warm and completely alone. He was immediately on alert.

 

Ever since he had moved James into his house he had woken nearly every morning tangled in muscled limbs with a sleepily amused 007 staring at him as he slept. It had started off as a little annoying but as time passed he had grown to appreciate the weight and warmth of his partner. James was the best sleep aid he had ever found. He found himself pacing the hallways and unable to find sleep, even a light doze, when James was called away by Queen and country. Half of him terrified that he was going to receive the call that James, the legendary 007, had finally met his maker. The other half of him had gotten so used to sleeping with a solid weight on his side, with deep quiet breaths tickling the shell of his ear that he just couldn’t find the comfy spot in bed without him.

 

So to have woken up without his resident octopus was a rarity, even more so since he had found out he was pregnant. There had been a gradual change after his revelation; instead of his boyfriend half crushing him to death in his sleep James had slowly shifted, as his bump had gradually made its presence known on his skinny frame, to laying as close as he possibly could one strong capable hand creeping up to cover the rising skin. It figured that James could only unreservedly be the sweet man he knew him capable of being when he was totally unconscious.

 

Q often woke before James, being a born early bird and having lived with two brothers who woke up even earlier than him it was an ingrained habit. He was able to catch the sweetness that was his sleeping bed partner. He would lay there in the semi darkness and bask in the feeling of being so loved, watching the gentle rise and fall of that broad chest littered with reminders of the life he lived, watching the harsh lines of his face smoothed out taking years off him. He relished the feeling of James laying so close that he could sometimes feel his heart beating through his skin. 

 

Though at the slightest noise or movement James would shoot up out of total unconsciousness to perfect awareness even though he wouldn’t even twitch; he had never known someone to be able to change between restful sleep and consciousness so quickly. Q had learnt to tell the difference between the two quickly, loving when he could see the man next to him totally relaxed as he couldn’t be when he was awake. It was a little heart breaking when he really thought on it, that the man he loved had lived a life so dangerous that he lived on high alert every moment of his life. But all that faded in the fragile morning stillness he got to see.

 

He glanced around their dark bedroom as best he could without his glasses, James would often retreat to the armchair by the window when he wanted to brood himself into a bad mood. The empty chair was testament to the missing double-oh.

 

“James?”

 

His voice travelled through their bedroom door and received no answer. The bed dipped beside him and his hand was bumped insistently. He turned to see a pair of bright green eyes imploring him to lavish attention on their owner. Q smiled and started scratching behind one white fluffy ear. The Rag doll promptly leaned all his weight into his hand, purring loudly in contentment.

 

“Zevran, you little tart. Have I slept so long that I've missed your breakfast? How mean of me!” He cooed.

 

The cat lazily opened one eye as if to say ‘and how are you going to rectify this?’, purring all the louder. The cat began to knead the bedcovers, plucking up little bits of fabric with his sharp claws. His eyes slowly slid closed, soaking up all the attention. Q often thought for a cat, who had lived in total neglect for the majority of his life before he was rescued and promptly welcomed into his home, was the most affectionate feline he had ever met in his life. He could remember when the cat had feared to leave his carrier for most of the week after he had brought him home. Frightened and utterly convinced he was going to be beaten when he left the safe confines of his plastic home, Q had sat with him for hours every day slowly coaxing out the cat until he finally realised that he was in a safe home.

 

It had been the happiest day of his life when Zevran had slunk out of his carrier and into his lap, purring so hesitantly as to be non-existent. Each day had revealed a more confident and unrepentant cat and he loved it.

 

Q reluctantly pulled away from the purring ball of fluff, satisfied eyes snapping open appalled. A lead ball of guilt formed immediately in his stomach. He was always surprised to find himself feeling guilty at the hands of his cats; for not giving in to their every whim. He gave one last scratch thinking it must be an in built skill of theirs to keep humans feeding them.

 

“As much as I would love to stay here and lavish attention on you I want to know where James? Any ideas? It's not like him to wander off, unlike your sister. And I suppose that you have no idea where she is either?”

 

Zevran just purred and tucked his legs beneath him. He slowly pulled himself out of bed, immediately regretting doing so as the cold air of the room hit him. Grabbing randomly in the dark his fingers eventually found the thick shag of his dressing gown and gratefully slid into it. He began his journey to the bedroom door carefully, for as soon as he had moved Zevran had leapt gracefully to the floor in order to wind his way between his feet with each step.

 

“Zevran if you don't stop that I'm going to trip over you and die!” Q chastised.

 

His answer was a loud unrepentant purr.

 

He huffed out a sigh and continued. He shuffled down the hallway, even more grateful he had decided to wear socks to bed as the house was as cold as his bedroom. Two quick glances confirmed that James wasn't lurking in the bathroom or his study. Q wondered if James had wandered off in his sleep again. He knew his lover hated the fact that his body had ever not been under his control even if it only had happened twice.

 

He ducked into the kitchen and checked the counter beside the kettle. No notes. Q began to get worried, he couldn't hear the quiet murmur of the telly and no note meant that James wasn't in the house and hadn't told him where he had gone. Zevran slid past his legs reminding him of his cat’s empty stomach, he sighed and reached down to the box of biscuits beside the fridge. As soon as the first biscuit touched the bowl Zevran dived in purring happily.

 

“You only like me because I'm comfy and I feed you, don't you?”

 

He received no answer, which he was grateful for because crazy cat man he was not. Yet.

 

He began wracking his brain to figure out where James could possibly be. He knew the mission log backwards and would have told his boyfriend himself if he was required.

 

His brain suddenly stumbled. A smile ghosted his lips. The baby had just moved, like a little muscle twitch deep inside of him. His hands cradled his barely visible bump desperately wanting to feel the movement under his hands, although knowing his baby wouldn't be big enough to do so for a while yet.

 

He closed his eyes and stilled completely and waited. Another little twitch. He laughed quietly to himself unable to stop himself. His baby was moving; it was really there. He knew logically that the baby was there, that the little lines of the pregnancy test hadn't been lying to him but it was another thing to feel it inside of him, living and thriving.

 

His head snapped up to share his joy with the only person he wanted to in that moment only to remember that James wasn't there.  The smile dropped from his face. And the worry set in again.

 

The room seemed to have gotten colder, his breath just shy of visible. He couldn't figure out what would make his normally cosy house so damn cold. He determinedly pulled the fleece of his dressing gown closer and stuck his hands into his body warmed pockets only just realising how cold his fingertips had become once they were safely ensconced.

 

He spun on his socked heel and with one last glance to the counter he set off back towards his room. As he moved he saw from the corner of his eye the slightest sway of the frosty branches of the apple tree in his garden. His body continued forwards as his mind pulled back. He shouldn't be able to see the garden. The back door should have obscured his view with frosted glass.

 

He turned fully and realised why his house was a freezer. The door stood wide open. His worry surfaced again with the thought that someone had broken in only to be swept away by the sight of a familiar face walking back up the garden.

 

He grinned stupidly for a moment, the joy James always brought him surfacing, thoroughly enjoying the sight of his boyfriend wrapped in his thick winter coat and the replica Doctor Who scarf he had brought him for Christmas.  Until he once again realised that his house was a freezer and he had worried for nothing.

 

“Bond! What the bloody hell do you think you're playing at! My house is the same temperature as the bloody arctic and I've about frozen my nipples off! And to top it all off where the bloody hell have you been, I've been worried!” spilled from his half frozen lips before his mind caught up.

 

James perked his head up and jogged quickly to the back door. His face was flushed rosy pink with the cold and his hair looked as if he had fallen through a bush backwards, or rather had woken up and then proceeded to run his fingers through it half a hundred times.

 

Q bundled him indoors and snapped the door shut behind him.

 

“James?”

 

His partner hadn't said a word, hadn't really looked at him. Q shoved him through the kitchen door into the lounge and started to yank Afghans from all corners of the room bundling both of them into a hasty nest on the sofa. Q immediately began to yank the buttons of his coat and pyjama shirt apart, sliding himself into the ever warm gap in his boyfriend’s jacket and pulled the blankets closer.

 

He may have been mad with the man but that didn't mean that he would ever give up the opportunity to steal the burning heat of his boyfriend’s skin. He could feel himself immediately warming from where he had glued himself to the other man.

 

“James, where have you been? Are you alright? What happened?” he demanded, although his commands came through muffled as they were from under a coat, dressing gown, three fleece blankets and two hand crocheted Afghans from when he had broken his leg and had nothing else to do but teach himself skills from YouTube.

 

All the answer he received were two heavy arms coming to wrap themselves around his body and hands start chafing some warmth into his back. Q pulled his head back from where it had been comfortably buried and locked gazes with his boyfriend.

 

Confused brown met with lost blue and Q couldn't figure out what was spinning inside that handsome blonde head. He cupped a pink cheek and some sort of light came back into James’s eyes.

 

“Q” he whispered, sounding bone tired.

 

James’s eyes slid closed and he pressed a soft kiss to Q’s wrist. They nestled even closer and James’s arms tightened around him. They sat entwined for countless moments, neither shifting simply breathing in time.

 

Q jumped slightly, waking with a gasp, when their bubble was broken by two solid weights making themselves known. He cracked open one eye and spotted the white fur of Zevran and the black fur of his sister, Morrigan settling into their laps. Q debated reaching out a hand to scratch Morrigan’s neck but thought better of it, liking the feeling of blood in his fingertips. He watched as the two settled much as he was with James curled into one another stealing and sharing heat alike. Morrigan was an affectionate cat in her own way. She loved to curl up in any available lap and would graciously accept pets from humans when she felt like it. However, the moment she decided that she’d had enough, her claws were often faster than his fingers.

 

It sometimes bothered him that she had taken an instant liking to James the day he had first broken in just after his promotion to Quartermaster. James had entered his home to find out what kind of person would be looking after him in the field, whether he could trust him to look after his back. He had unlocked his front door to find James sitting on his heels in the hallway with a contently purring Morrigan winding through his legs and taking every chance to throw herself onto his hand. Both had looked up at him guiltily when his bag hit the floor.

 

He glanced up at the tired face of his boyfriend and couldn't help but wonder what was running through his mind. What had driven him out of bed on the rare days he spent at home and into the frosty barely-there dawn. He must have made a noise for James stiffened and opened his eyes.

 

When he looked down he looked far more like himself. Looking soft and warm and loving. Q smiled.

 

“Don't think because of your impromptu walkabout and our subsequent nap that I've forgotten. Where did you go James?” he asked, not sure if he was talking about his body or his mind.

 

“Around. Not very far.” Came his vague answer.

 

Q couldn't help but get angry, he had every right to be worried. His boyfriend had a very long history of walking out in the middle of the night and never coming back. And an even longer one of dying when unsupervised.

 

James seemed to realise that he had long since spent his quota of mysterious for the day. And sighed, staring off into the distance he spoke again.

 

“I got on the phone to Kincade. Had him dig up the deeds to Skyfall. You now inherit everything apart from his house and the lands given to him. After I’m killed.” he said, monotone.

 

Q rocked back.

 

“What?”

 

He couldn’t understand the words that had made themselves at home in his mind.

 

“What?” He repeated when James remained staring into space.

 

“James, look at me. James!” Q fumbled with the blankets and stood up.

 

His boyfriend looked at him and Q wanted to cry. He’d blame it on the hormones later.

 

“Q, I’m going to die before you. Most likely in an awful fashion with no body to return to you. I am just being prepared. You being with me is like being with a man with a terminal illness, you don’t know when I’m going to die, you only know it’s going to be sudden and without a goodbye.” James kept his gaze, nothing showing behind them. Just the way he looked when he couldn’t find a way out of a situation. His _if-I-don’t-care-it-wont-hurt-me_ attitude.

 

Q knelt between James legs, a hand on each knee to steady himself on the way down. They kept their eyes locked and James palmed his cheek. He could feel the tears building along the edges of his eyes.

 

“No.” Q whispered.

 

“Listen to me James. You are the best damn agent Britain has. Honestly, everyone respects and fears 007. But you are not going to die that way, you hear? You are going to make it to retirement; you are going to drive the kids to school and you are going to walk the damn dog if we get one, you are going to be there for every birthday and Christmas and every bloody awful school play and rugby match. Because if you dare die in the middle of some sodding desert half way around the globe without my express permission I am going to bring you back and make you regret it for the rest of your long and unhappy life! I don’t want what you own. I want you and that is it.” Q felt the tears trailing down his cheeks as soon as he started speaking because he was hormonal and honestly meant every word. He knew that if James died bloody and alone he would never forgive himself for letting him go out there in the first place. He knew that James was it for him to the end of his days.

 

James surged forwards and kissed him. It wasn’t perfect, James lips were chapped from the cold and his were covered in tears but it was right. They broke apart when a phone ringing broke the house’s silence.

 

Q reached the house phone first.

 

“Little brother..I..”

 

At the broken, weak words Q was on high alert. He barely recognised his eldest brother, nothing about the voice on the other end of the phone sounded like his brother except the way he said ‘little brother’.

“Mycroft, what’s wrong? Mycroft, bloody hell are you okay?” Q spoke quickly down the phone already mentally walking through the steps he’d need to find Mycroft anywhere in the world. Then he heard the static that signalled the phone had exchanged hands. He bristled at the silence expecting something awful to happen. Then to his eternal thanks John’s voice came over the line.

 

“Q you need to come to the hospital, bring Bond with you; you’ll need him I should expect.” It didn’t reassure him to hear those words in John’s famous ‘doctor voice’ it only worried him more.

 

James had disappeared down the hall as soon as he’d mentioned Mycroft, reappearing with a shirt, trousers, a cardigan and his favourite coat. He began to slid him out of his pyjamas listening to the conversation as it happened.

 

“John what the hell has happened to Mycroft? He sounds like someone has gutted him!” He bit out down the phone, knowing that anger wasn’t conducive to getting the answer he wanted but couldn’t help it. His eldest brother had never sounded so lost.

 

“Mycroft is fine. At least physically, it’s Greg. He’s been admitted, he was bleeding heavily this morning. The paramedics were called and he was rushed in, he’s still in surgery now. I only knew because I know one of the nurses on the ward and she flagged me. Q…It isn’t looking great. The prognosis is guarded at best. You need to get here quickly.” John spoke, sounding on the verge of tears himself.

 

By the time John had finished speaking he was mostly dressed. He finished fastening his belt and shrugged into the coat. James had already left to get the car.

He walked out of the front door, not really noticing. It was if the world had faded, lost some colour. Greg was in hospital. He could be dying and his brother was over in the hospital falling apart. James herded him into the car and quickly started the engine.

 

As the Jaguar roared down the road; breaking the early morning silence James dragged one of his hands into his own and soothed a thumb over the back of it. He clenched tightly, hoping that the day wouldn’t end up how it seemed it would. And in the back of his mind, still wondrous in the face of his brother’s pain, his baby moved for the first time and he still hadn’t told James.

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions man on man relationships, a little light kissing and a big baby milestone! 
> 
> I think that's it. I hope. If not give me a bell and I'll sort it! 
> 
> Much love as always, 
> 
> Lou


End file.
